Where the Sidewalk Ends
by hereiam
Summary: To say that I was worried when I woke up in a pile of leaves instead of my bed should have been quite an understatement." Eventual Legolas/OC.
1. Chapter 1

So I finally wrote something again! Sorry this isn't Forgetting If, Remember Yes, but I swear I'm not giving up on that one. School just became a nightmare last semester, and I gave up trying to have any kind of a life. But now I'm on a much better schedule, so hopefully I will be able to update more regularly.

Also, yes, this is a girl-falls-into-Mirkwood-and-gets-rescued story, but don't give up on it just because of that! Legolas isn't even in the first few chapters, and I'm trying really hard not to make Kat a Mary-Sue. For those of you who have read Forgetting If, Remember Yes, don't be surprised if the writing style is a little less formal. I'm experimenting with first person, so I'm trying to be a little less story-like.

My review policy: I'm happy to get almost any review, especially critiques and polite criticism. If you think I'm doing something wrong, please tell me (but if it's about canon, I'm probably not going to be that worried). However, if you really hate this so much that you can only insult me, don't bother. Just stop reading it.

Disclaimer: All characters that you recognize belong to Tolkien (or JK Rowling in this chapter). If they belonged to me, then I would be the published author instead of writing here.

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To say that I was worried when I woke up in a pile of leaves instead of my bed should have been quite an understatement. But the cold air and the slightly damp ground shocked me into an almost calm state, that is until I noticed the spider-the-size-of-a-house that had taken up residence in the tree above me. I'd overlooked it in my initial confusion, just going to show how unobservant I truly am. Thankfully though, it seemed to have overlooked me as well. This may have had something to do with the fact that I was quite literally _in_ the pile of leaves. Or it could have just been because it was really freaking dark.

At any rate, once I noticed the ginormous bug, I resolved to stay perfectly still until I could come up with a way to escape unnoticed. You know, I did the whole freeze-when-you-see-a-T-Rex-and-hope-all-those-stories-are-right thing. Apparently big spiders aren't all that much smarter than dinosaurs, because it didn't immediately attack. Then again, maybe it was just biding its time.

I took the time while waiting for the creature to attack to process all the information I could to find out where I was. I figured it wasn't Earth because I'd never heard of spiders _that_ big (and I would have because I'm kind of a Jeopardy freak). At least, it wasn't Earth unless all the Harry Potter stories were true. If they were, hopefully Hagrid would come bounding around the corner at any moment and save me from good ol' what's-his-name, the giant spider friend who nearly ate Harry and Ron.

Alas, no other giant creatures appeared. The darkness did abate a little, so I figured it was getting near dawn. I stopped noticing weird eye-things all around and started noticing the bodies that were connected to those eyes. Great. More giant spiders.

At any minute, it was definitely going to get too light for the spiders to not be able to see me anymore, but I didn't know what to do. I mean librarians don't have to deal with this situation on a day-to-day basis. The worst I ever had to deal with was a nitpicky researcher or two. And then I heard it: a distant horn blast. It sounded friendly in a weird sort of way, but even if it wasn't, I was glad because the spiders all got really tense. I guess that meant they'd heard the horn before and knew it wasn't good news, and apparently I was right because they all turned figurative-tail and scuttled off in the opposite direction.

At first I really wanted to get up at do a little victory, thank-the-lord-I-didn't-get-eaten dance, but then I realized that whatever could scare spiders that big probably didn't bode so well for me. I mean these bugs were like 1000 times my size, and they had all those nasty pincers and stuff. All I had was my pajamas and whatever stick I could scrounge up to use as a staff, which I had no idea how to do anyway. And I really didn't think I would get far running, as it was mostly still dark and I tended to fall a lot when I tried to run.

So I resigned myself to waiting. Perhaps they would be friends and disliked giant spiders as much as I did. Or perhaps they'd want to chop off my head. I heard the horn again, and I knew I was sure to find out within a few minutes. They must have been on horseback, since it advanced so quickly. Either that, or they were as big as the spiders. I shuddered at the thought.

Hearing hooves on the leaves, I stood so as to draw attention to myself. No sense drawing this out, you know. After a few seconds, a party of what looked like young men entered into the clearing where I was. Thankfully they were all normal-sized, if you can call really, really, way too tall normal. And trust me, you could tell they were tall even when they were on horseback.

Of course they saw me and stopped. They surrounded me so I couldn't escape, and I held up my hands in the universal sign of resignation. Then we just stared at each other. There were eleven of them in all, and they could have all been brothers. I suspected that my initial guess at men was wrong, because they were all fabulously gorgeous, with long blonde hair and obviously very fit bodies. They could have passed for brothers, every single one, and I was sure that not a one of them was older than my twenty-five years.

Finally one of them spoke. He was the only one not wearing a sort of green and brown Robin Hood outfit. His was entirely black and rather foreboding looking.

"Just what are you doing in these woods, mortal?" he intoned. It was a rather nasally voice, and though it didn't sound unkind, I knew we weren't going to be best friends.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just woke up in this pile of leaves." A few of his companions snorted at this, and I felt a little better. Anyone who has the ability to laugh at ridiculousness can't be all bad.

"Hmm," the snobby one continued, "you just woke up here. How…odd. And did you know that you were trespassing on the lands of Thranduil, king of all the Mirkwood elves?"

Wow. _King._ Oh, how I hoped it wasn't him. And Mirkwood seemed like a really good name for this dark place too. "Well, no. I don't think I've ever heard of Thranduil." The name did sound familiar though, like from something I'd read a long time ago. It was quite possible, but working as a librarian did allow for a lot of reading, so I never quite remembered what I read as a kid.

The snobby one looked quite offended at my statement and I cringed. Pissing him off wasn't going to help me any. "Are you King Thranduil, sir?"

"No. _I_ am one of his councilors. And sir is a term for _mortals_, which I am not."

Not mortal? I was really in an odd place. I don't think even Harry Potter's world had immortal creatures, unless you counted Voldemort going all crazy and splitting his soul a bunch. I guess my shock must have showed on my face, because the snobby one explained.

"We are elves, and we are to be addressed as 'my lord.' What did you think we were?"

"Elves?" I practically squeaked that one. I'd always pictured elves as cute little Santa's helpers. These guys didn't look like they made toys all day, or brought tons of joy to good boys and girls every Christmas. They looked more like the ones that might have defended the Santa's castle from the abominable snow monster. And looked really good doing it.

Snob-elf's eyes narrowed. "I do not believe her ignorance," he hissed to one of his companions. "We will take her with us to the king and he may deal with her."

One of the elves rode forward on his command and extended a hand to help me up onto his horse. Unfortunately the thing was definitely taller than me, and I'm not good with big animals. I tend to stick with small things like pugs or cats. At any rate, by some feat of strength he managed to pull me up to sit in front of him. I'm not saying I weigh a ton, but lifting a half-resisting girl from ground to horseback can't be easy either.

We turned and rode off toward what I supposed was the palace. I was really tense, mainly because I was on top of a horse. I guess the part about me being taken prisoner hadn't sunk in yet. The elf must have noticed that I was kind of freaking out, because he gently guided my hands to the horse's mane. "Hold on here; you won't hurt him."

Once I felt less like I was on a death trap, I thanked him. Good manners can get you out of many a bad situation.

"Do not worry so, my lady. The king is much kinder to strangers than Dínendal would have you believe."

I figured he was referring to Snob-elf. "I'm supposed to believe he's nice when he hires elves like that as his councilors?"

The elf laughed softly. "Dínendal is one of the younger councilors, and he has a rather high opinion of himself, my lady. The king has many nicer councilors."

"Well I suppose that's good news." We lapsed into silence for a few moments before I had to ask. "What's with all the 'my lady' stuff?"

"'Tis only polite," he replied. "And I do not know your name."

"It's Kat."

"Kat? That is one I have never heard."

"Well it's really Katriona Elisabetta Eversleigh, but if you call me that I may have to declare war. It doesn't really suit me. So I shortened it to Kat."

"Very well, Lady Kat, I shall call you as you wish. I am Amras."

"Amras. Okay. Or is it Lord Amras?"

The elf chuckled again. I really was beginning to hope that King Thranduil was as friendly as Amras. "I am no Lord, Lady Kat, only a guard. You may call me simply Amras if that is what you wish."

"Well then I insist you dispense with 'Lady' and call me simply Kat."

By this point we had ridden quite a while and I saw what looked like a bridge in the distance. "It is the bridge into the palace, Lady Kat. After we cross it, we will enter the cave that is the city of Mirkwood. The palace is inside, and we should be there in a few more minutes."

A few more minutes was all I would have left until I met this King Thranduil. I immediately tensed up again, but Amras either did not notice or knew that nothing would calm me this time. All too soon, we were dismounting from the horses and walking into a gigantic room. I was slightly comforted by the many empty tables inside the room. At least they didn't make me kneel in front of some king in a gigantic throne room decorated in the Baroque style or something else that hideous. I've always disliked over-decorated space; it makes me feel like I'm nowhere near fancy enough.

At any rate, we passed through the dining room and into a much smaller space, like an office. It was a beautiful room, with subtle leaf carvings on the woodwork and paintings hung to assuage the lack of windows. I of course was too taken with my surroundings to notice that there was another blonde elf sitting behind the large desk in the center of the room.

Amras finally cleared his throat and I snapped into a rather jerky curtsy-like movement. I suppose I should have been grateful that I hadn't fallen over, but I was too conscious of my bare, muddy feet and baggy t-shirt that read 'DeKalb County Public Library.' Compared the elf that was standing up behind the desk, I looked like a sad little poorhouse worker from the days of Charles Dickens.

The aforementioned elf, who could have only been Thranduil, was standing at least a little taller than my escorts and Dínendal. He was wearing a sort of shimmery-but-still-doesn't-detract-from-my-masculinity robe thing and on his head was a circlet of gold leaves. It blended in rather nicely with his long blonde hair and definitely brought out his bright blue eyes. He didn't look any older than me, but one glance at that face and I knew he was way smarter.

Dínendal cleared his throat to begin accusing me of all sorts of crimes, I'm sure, but the king held up one perfect hand to stop him. "What is your name, my dear?"

His voice was kind in a way that did not make him sound less powerful. All in all, he was exactly how I'd imagined a king should be. Unfortunately the shock had set in for real this time, and all I could manage to do was gape at him like a rather unattractive species of fish.

"It is Katriona Elisabetta Eversleigh, my Lord Thranduil, but she wishes to be called Kat." Thank the Lord for Amras.

"Is this true, Lady Kat?"

Finally I recovered my powers of speech. "Yes, your highness."

He chuckled, sounding almost exactly like Amras, and I relaxed. "There is no need for the formality, Lady Kat. Would you please tell me of how you came to be in my kingdom?"

"Of course, your—I mean Lord Thranduil. You see, I was just asleep in my own bed in Atlanta, and when I woke up, I was in a pile of leaves surrounded by really big spiders. I stayed put, hoping they would not recognize me as food, and eventually your elves scared them away and brought me here, for which I am very thankful."

"Hmm," the king mused, looking very thoughtful. "I have not heard of this Atlanta. Perhaps Mithrandir will know where it is."

Dínendal finally piped up: "Mithrandir is on the quest to destroy the One Ring, my Lord. As is your son."

The king's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I suspected he would go." He sighed in a rather beleaguered way and then focused back on me. "Well, since you seem to not know where you are, and I assume you mean us no harm, you are free to stay here as my guest until Mithrandir is available to help you. We can assign you a job if you wish, but if not, I will have someone give you a chamber and show you around."

The prospect of a job was rather exciting. I'd always loved hard work, particularly in the library at home. "Do you have a library, Lord Thranduil? I worked in one at home, and I'd be happy to help out there again."

The elves behind me shifted nervously, and I hoped I hadn't said something awful.

"We do have a library, my Lady Kat, but we have no one who works there. It has not been open since my wife died nearly three thousand years ago. I do not believe you would wish to enter into the mess."

After I managed not to faint at the notion that this elf was over three thousand years old (I guess Dínendal really did mean they were immortal), I spoke up. "If you would not mind, I would like to try to restore some order to it. I detest disorder in libraries."

The king smiled. "Very well. I shall have a maid show you to a chamber and I shall appoint you one to assist you in personal matters. You may begin work on the library tomorrow after breakfast." With that, my interview was over, and I followed Amras out into the dining room again.

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Thanks for reading! Review if you wish!


	2. Chapter 2

Finally another chapter! This one is short, but hopefully I'll have another one up within a few weeks.

Thanks to my reviewers: fairyflame, ninja-of-twilight, emolistic, potterfreak3, dementia of a different kind, yay!, and QueenieMeanie!

Disclaimer: All characters that you recognize belong to Tolkien. If they belonged to me, then I would be the published author instead of writing here.

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So it had officially been three months since I had woken up in a damp pile of leaves, and even I was impressed with my resilience. Except for a minor freak-out the morning I had woken up in a strange bed, I had adjusted quite well to what I supposed was my new life.

Well, I guess it was a little more than a minor freak-out. To make a long, long, LONG story short, I had woken up just a tiny bit disoriented. Understandable, right? I guess it stopped being understandable when I'd been screaming for so long that Amras, who had shown up after I'd thrown something at my maid, decided to go find King Thranduil himself to calm me down. Of course they pulled him out of a very important meeting and he was none too pleased when he arrived in my room to find me still a complete mess. Thankfully, he's a very understanding king and I passed out from hysteria shortly after he got there. When I woke up the second time, I guess I was used to the idea of being in a different world. Either that or I was just really exhausted.

Anyway, after that debacle, I was pretty calm for a while. At least I was calm enough to not have another freak-out session when I got to the library, which was floor-to-ceiling chaos. There must have been over 300,000 volumes! And none of them were in any kind of order. Or English! I guess it hadn't registered that the elves were just being nice and speaking to me in my own language. So of course when I saw the funny little words strung together and couldn't make any sense out of them, I had to go back to find King Thranduil again. Like I said, he's _very_ understanding. Most of his councilors really do hate me by now though.

Finally I found him and he assigned me an Elvish tutor. But by the end my second day in Mirkwood, I did feel like things were a little hopeless for me. I was really grateful for Amras (and of course the king, but he wasn't really there too often). He kind of took me under his wing those first few days. I met his wife Ireth and his baby boy Orophin, who happens to be the most adorable child in the existence of Mirkwood, I'm sure.

Ireth and I were fast on our way to becoming good friends by this point, mainly because she's helped me find suitable clothing. It really wasn't that easy when you're roughly a foot shorter than the shortest elf you can find. Luckily, I'm not big-chested, so I've had no problems with gowns that are way too tight (because every elf I've seen is as slender as a model, but not one that's all cracked out or anything).

Anyway, with learning a new language, caring for a bouncing baby boy off and on, and eating dinner with a king twice weekly, my first three months had gone by too fast for me to notice that I was still in what I assumed was a different world. For some odd reason that I couldn't explain, I knew I'd see this Mithrandir after about a year or so, and I was fairly content to remain in my newfound position as court librarian until then. Although I had only officially been court librarian for one day because I had just finished my lessons in Elvish, which went quite well thanks mostly to my tutor but also a little to my gift for languages (in our world, I know French, Spanish, Latin, German, and Mandarin Chinese!).

I had been extremely nervous on my first day (less like starting-a-new-job nervous and more like there-is-a-baby-and-I-might-be-the-father nervous), but I had managed to sort a few books. It seemed that Thranduil's library literally _hadn't been touched_ since his wife had died. Some of the books were in a semblance of order, but most of them were stacked on shelves or tables in random piles. I knew as soon as I entered that it would take me ages to complete the sorting, ages before anyone could glean any knowledge from the books.

I was almost angry with Thranduil, but the way he mentioned that no one had been in there since his wife's death made me think that she had been in charge, so I couldn't fault him for not wanting to correct the disorder (but whoever she was, nice and beautiful elf or not, she was _not_ OCD like me).

So after the first day, when I had begun making a list (in Elvish, no less) of what I was considering sorting the books into, I felt a bit out of my league. For one thing I would surely be dead before finishing the project. I pointed this out to Thranduil when I ate dinner with him that evening, only to receive very odd looks from some of his councilors who had been invited to join us. When I questioned them about it, they all insisted that I was immortal.

I laughed. A lot.

And then I resolved that the second question I would ask Mithrandir (after how I managed to end up in what I thought was a different world) would be if I was immortal. I think the elves were just drinking too much wine that night, but if I could live long enough to finish sorting out the library and maybe be able to loan out books, I certainly wouldn't be upset. Of course, I didn't know how Thranduil would feel about me crashing in Mirkwood for the rest of time, so I didn't press the issue. Just because he seemed willing to treat me like a daughter didn't mean I was one. And I'd heard about his son.

Oh, the things I'd heard about his son. The first thing was of course that he was off on some quest (which I later learned was to save the world—if Sauron won, I certainly didn't want to be immortal). Everyone seemed to want to tell me about him: Amras regaled me with stories of the prince's grace and fierceness in battle; my tutor told me that he loved books and would probably be happy to join me if he ever returned. King Thranduil told stories of his childhood and of how stubborn he was, but I knew that he was missed dearly even if they never seemed to get along.

But Ireth's stories were the most telling, and the most interesting. She told me of the prince's love for women, women of all shapes and sizes, and many times there was more than one. She had once held the prince's eye for a night at a ball, but she said she would never forget his charm and his handsomeness. Apparently though, his charm was completely false, as he hadn't spoken to her after she refused to accompany him to his room.

When Ireth and I were able to wander through the palace (which really only happened like once a month), she sometimes pointed out the prince's former lovers. There were quite a few, and they all seemed to be the tallest and the blondest ladies in the kingdom, which was saying something since every elf there was tall and blonde. They were also the snootiest, and from what Ireth had told me, there were many more of them in Rivendell and Lothlorien, the other homes of the elves. Apparently the prince was quite popular, and quite the womanizer. Ireth didn't think much of him, even if she acknowledged that he was smart and a wonderful warrior.

I didn't think I would like the prince much either.

But like I said, somehow I knew I wouldn't have to worry about a chance encounter with him for a good long while (at least to me—a year to elves was apparently like a few weeks). And even when he returned, I was sure he wouldn't pay any attention to me. Being short, with reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes, I was nothing like his beautiful ladies. The only way he would see me is if he came to help in the library as my tutor insisted he would, and then I would put him at the opposite end. After all, I wasn't court librarian for nothing!

Really, it wasn't the most exciting time in my life, and I was lucky that I adjusted so quickly to being in a different place. The only real negative part of my life in Mirkwood was the underlying desperation that all elves seemed to feel as a result of the impending war and the desire to leave Mirkwood (and Middle Earth). It seeped into my life fairly rapidly, and I couldn't find a way to stop looking over my shoulder for Death or the Valar or whoever came to claim you here. I just felt like my peaceful library existence would be torn apart at any moment, and I hadn't even had a chance to put together one shelf! But other than that odd sixth sense feeling, and the lack of sunlight, I liked Mirkwood probably more than I had liked Atlanta.

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Thanks for reading! Review if you wish!


	3. Chapter 3

So it's been almost 10 months since I updated, and I could give you a list of excuses, but that seems silly. I just haven't updated. Hopefully I'll be able to do so again sometime soon, but I really won't promise anything. Except that I will not abandon this story entirely (it just might take me a few years).

Thanks to my reviewers: Hypnotized Angel, Cracked Coconut, xJasminexJezebelx, JBlackiloveyou, Twilight's Oblivion, rearviewxmirrors, Tioman, Crecy, Black-Sun-567, and ninja-of-twilight! I really love knowing people read and enjoy my work.

Disclaimer: All characters that you recognize belong to Tolkien. If they belonged to me, then I would be the published author instead of writing here.

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I woke up one morning about six months later and began to go about my usual routine. Since I'd finally convinced Thranduil that I wasn't a morning person, breakfast was sent to my room to wake me up every morning. It usually consisted of fruit and some kind of roll thing with this delicious honey butter type spread. And a glass of water, for which the elves thought I was exceedingly odd. Water was commonplace for them, but I was still excited that you could simply go down to the river and drink it straight because of the lack of pollution here.

At any rate, I finished breakfast and got dressed in one of my everyday gowns, which was still way more expensive-looking than anything I'd owned in our world. Then I headed to the library, which was on the main floor (my room was three flights upstairs), to begin sorting for the day. I was actually making quicker progress than I thought I would. Because the library was ginormous, I stopped making lists of books and started separating them into piles all over the room. It was a little annoying because it meant I had to go up a ladder, grab an armful of books and come down without killing myself, then look through the books to see where they belonged and run all over the room finding their piles. It took about an hour to sort through ten books, but I was slowly getting there.

Still, the process was more than a little hectic, especially as I'd fallen off the ladder at least once a day since I'd started using it. Thankfully I had perfected the jump-backwards-when-the-ladder-gets-off-balance act, although I'm sure I looked really silly jumping and flinging books through the air.

I was sitting at the opposite end when I heard the library doors open and I froze, racking my brain to remember if I was supposed to be having lunch with anyone. I wasn't. The doors closed, and I realized that whoever was heading my way was making a thumping noise. Believe me, no elf would _ever_ thump like that. I think they all went to charm school or something to learn how to walk perfectly silently.

I edged my way around shelves toward the front of the library, trying to be silent but failing miserably of course. I snuck around the corner of the last shelf between me and the thumping noise, fully prepared to run screaming through the doors and down the hall when I realized it _was_ and elf making the thumping. An elf on crutches.

I popped out from behind the self with what I'm sure was a really attractive gaping look on my face and stared at the elf for at least a minute before I realized that I probably looked like a complete idiot. I snapped my jaw shut and started to introduce myself, but what came out was this: "You're on crutches?!"

The elf snorted at that, which I have never heard an elf do. He walked over to a chair and lowered himself into it, stretching his right leg out before him with a slight grimace before responding.

"I am, Lady Kat."

"Forgive me, my lord, but I've never seen an elf on crutches. Aren't you guys supposed to heal really fast or something?"

"We _guys_ do heal fast, so I will only be on crutches for a few weeks. But even elves do not heal instantly, and my leg was almost chopped completely off."

"By who?" I realize that most male elves _could_ chop someone's leg off, but I really didn't see it happening.

"Someone I was sparring with in guard training," he replied. "We do not exactly get along," he finished with a tight smile.

"Oh. Wow. Well…umm…I'm Kat—wait, you already know that. So, I guess, who are you and how do you know who I am?"

"My father told me who you are."

"Your father?"

"Yes, I am Fëanáro Dínendalion." He watched me closely to see my reaction to his father's name, which was a dark look. His Royal Snobbiness Dínendal, as I'd taken to calling him, and I had run across each other several times, and each time he was pretty much an ass. So yeah, I hated his guts.

"I'm sure your father's told you all about me," I replied acidly, expecting him to insult me or something.

Instead he nodded slowly, ignoring my tone. "But I do not believe it. If he does not like you, then I am sure you are the type of person I _will_ like. You see, my brother did this to my leg, and my father _congratulated_ him, of all things." He drawled the last part out quite sarcastically. I was sure I was going to like this elf too.

After we'd spent a few minutes getting acquainted, i.e. talking about how much Dínendal sucked, Fëanáro asked if he could keep me company in the library while his leg healed. I readily agreed, and that was how we became fast friends.

* * *

Or maybe we were more. It had been four weeks since we'd met, and Fëanáro's leg healed just in time for King Thranduil's birthday ball. Which Fëanáro was escorting me to. Tonight! I'd have the ball gown, hair fixed, the whole shebang. Ireth had even shown me the steps of the dances we would do, although she assured me that Fëanáro was quite a good dancer, even for an elf, so I had nothing to worry about in that department. But I was worried about getting mauled by the other elven ladies, since Fëanáro was supposedly almost as popular as Legolas himself (who happened to be one of his good friends).

So I was a little nervous about the death glares, and that tonight had been officially classified as a date. I know, I know, elves don't really talk in terms of dates (they use the word courting), but when Fëanáro had asked, he specifically said he thought of me not _just_ as a friend.

Ireth was helping me get ready for the ball, basically since she was my only friend who was a girl. I'd never had a problem at home making friends with other women, but my friendship with Fëanáro seemed to limit my options. Most of the elven ladies seemed to be confused by our maybe-more-than friendship, as Fëanáro previously had chosen elves for their ability to mimic a Victoria's Secret model. I definitely didn't fit the stereotype.

At any rate, Ireth came over to my room around three in the afternoon (as far as I could tell—we didn't really have clocks in Mirkwood because the elves all seemed to have some instinctive notion of what time it was). I thought it was a bit early, since the ball didn't start until seven (actually, dinner began at seven, but I really wanted to go to that part too).

She also brought my gown, which Thranduil had made specifically for me, and I had not seen yet. I had been more than a little shocked when Thranduil visited me to let me know he was having a gown made for me, and I had protested that I didn't want him to spend his money on me. Of course, elven kings have treasure troves and all that, so I'm sure he wouldn't run out because of a simple ball gown. But still, I felt like I was already taking too much. Thranduil wouldn't take no for an answer though, and he insisted that it could be counted as part of my pay for cleaning up the library. And since I was doing it single-handed, I conceded to him that I may have earned it.

But when I saw the gown, I knew it was worth way more than my work. It was made of some kind of pale green fabric which seemed to float even when it wasn't on—it could have been silk, but I suspect it was something we don't have in our world. It was also covered with an embroidered leaf design that was in the same color thread; the embroidery was so thin that it seemed to shimmer when the dress moved, and I knew it had to have been done by hand (for one reason, elves don't really have _machines_). Of course, it had long sleeves and was fairly modest, like all elven gowns, but since it was made for my body, it was much more flattering. All in all, it was the most beautiful gown I'd ever seen, and I knew it would make me look far prettier than I actually was.

Once Ireth came over, the afternoon was like a whirlwind of fabric and brushes and maids rushing in and out to help. I really don't remember much of anything until we got to the hall for dinner. Somehow, Fëanáro had arrived at my room with Amras to escort us both to dinner and the ball. When I finally slowed down enough to realize what was happening, I noticed how handsome he looked. Don't get me wrong—all elves are handsome, at least all the ones I've seen—but he looked particularly striking in a tunic of the same color green and the same design as my gown. It was quite clear that we were attending the ball together.

For some reason, Fëanáro seemed a little tense. If he had been human, I would have attributed it to nerves, but I was hardly worth getting nervous over. I mean, I'm sure I spent a fair amount of our time gawking at him and hanging on to his every word, so he couldn't doubt that I didn't like him.

Thankfully though, we made it through dinner with no mishaps. Thranduil had the foresight to seat Fëanáro and I, _and_ Ireth and Amras at the high table with him, so I was surrounded by people who actually liked me. Fëanáro, of course, had a place up there, but I would have thought Amras would have been seated at a lower table. Not that I minded at all. I would have thought that I should have been seated at a lower table too.

Dinner was light and delicious as all the elvish food was, and Thranduil had managed to sneak me a glass of water along with my wine, so I wasn't too tipsy by the time the dancing started. Fëanáro did prove to be an excellent dancer. It reminded me of the time I'd been at a conference in Argentina and met one of the best tango dancers in the world. I definitely have two left feet when it comes to any sort of ballroom dancing, but this man (and Fëanáro) made me look like I knew what I was doing. I was definitely having a ton of fun, and I even got up enough confidence to dance with both Thranduil and Amras several times.

At midnight, we toasted Thranduil for his birthday. Several hundred elves had brought presents with them to the ball, but I had shown him mine that morning in the library. By this point, I'd finished most of the sorting, so I let him know that the job would only take a few more months. I know it sounds like a pretty lame birthday present, but he seemed to be very pleased with it.

Unfortunately, the toast involved some sort of very, very, very tasty elvish champagne-type substance. It also happened to be very, very, very alcoholic, and I tend not to mix well with strong alcoholic beverages. Amras must have noticed how flushed and giggly I was when I danced with him after the toast, because he quickly returned me to Fëanáro.

I thought Thranduil or Fëanáro would be upset that we were leaving the ball before it was over (although I hadn't planned to stay till the end, since usually elvish balls went on until dawn or so). But Thranduil simply smiled at me and wished me goodnight, and Fëanáro's leg was apparently getting stiff, so he was happy to go.

He escorted me back to my room looking really tense, even though I was drunkenly laughing at everything. I really couldn't figure out why he was so nervous, but it came to me suddenly when we reached my room.

It might have been because he kissed me.

Fëanáro was a really good kisser, but I was unfortunately a really giggly drunk (and the situation was just too ridiculous), and so before the kiss was over, I was laughing. At first he looked a little insulted, but he soon joined me in laughter (or maybe he just wanted to save face once he realized I wasn't stopping anytime soon).

After I'd finally calmed down, I sobered up enough to realize that I'd just laughed in the very handsome face of one of my best friends, and I felt really bad about it. I stammered out a hasty apology, but Fëanáro's eyes were sparkling with mirth.

"Do not trouble yourself," he replied. "It was not what I expected either."

"What did you expect then?"

"I expected that it would not be so ridiculous."

I blushed at this and tried to lower my head, but he grasped my chin and made me meet his eyes.

"Do not be embarrassed. It was not a kiss I would describe as romantic."

I thought about it for a minute, and I really, really wished it _had_ been romantic (after all, Fëanáro _was_ perfect), but it really had been a little disappointing. You know, lacking in spark or whatever.

"Yeah, I guess it wasn't romantic. Perhaps we would be better off as friends?"

Fëanáro looked a little relieved. "_Yeah_, I think we would be better off simply as friends. Although I will say that you were the most enjoyable lady I have ever had the opportunity to escort to a ball."

"Maybe that was why you were so nervous?"

At that, Fëanáro rolled his eyes. "Elves am _never_ nervous, Kat."

"Ohhhh, okay. So you were just tense because…"

"Because of my leg. That is all. Now I will leave you to your bed. Goodnight Kat." He spoke this all rather hurriedly, and then proceeded to practically run off.

All in all, I'd had an excellent first ball, and a rather humorous first kiss (from an elf—I had gone on dates in Atlanta before, so I wasn't completely devoid of social skills).

* * *

A/N: I just wanted to keep you informed as to the timeline. Legolas and Gandalf are due to return to Mirkwood a year after Kat arrives. Thus far, it's been about 10 months since her arrival, so he'll be showing up sometime soon. I know writing 10 months into 3 chapters is a little hectic and it's a little hard to see the characters develop, but the story will slow down a lot once Legolas comes home. I just figured it would be a little boring to tell you _all_ the details involved with organizing this library.

Thanks for reading! Review if you wish!


	4. Chapter 4

AN: So it's been a year and almost six months since the last time I updated. I have no real excuse besides real life. I'm just a bad author! Soooooooo so so sorry to everyone who's paid attention to this story. I can pretty much promise that my life is much freer these days, and I have better plans for this story, so I'll be updating much more frequently than one chapter in a year and a half.

Thank you so much to all my reviewers. The ones who reviewed the last chapter: Malina Wilwarin, Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967, NinjaoftheDarkness, Chibi Inuyasha Lover 4ever, Labyrinth Lover, Dominatrice, Morbidmuch, idril66, plummet, hanakaru-chan, ForeverBlue90, GoodMorningCampers, TillyMe, and Ratty Rowley. I hope some of you have stuck around this long!

Also, to answer a question from Ratty Rowley, Kat does not know she's in Middle Earth (I mean she knows because people in Middle Earth have told her, but she doesn't recognize the name). I realize it's a bit weird to think that a librarian hasn't read LOTR, so the short answer is that she has, but that the powers that be who brought her to Middle Earth have removed those memories. She's almost a blank slate here, but she does seem to intuit some of the details. Hope that clears up any confusion.

Disclaimer: All characters that you recognize belong to Tolkien. Also, I am a poor student, so suing me would be useless.

* * *

A couple of days after the ball, I was working in the library as usual when I heard a commotion outside. I'm not generally a person who can ignore loud noises and lots of shouting (especially when I'm in a deserted room in a fairly quiet part of a large castle), so I went to the doors to see if this was some elvish equivalent of a high school fight.

It was.

It looked like there were three elves shoving someone around and shouting in his face. From the mean looks on all of their faces, I didn't really want to get involved. That was, until the bullied elf was shoved to the ground and landed at my feet, and I discovered that it was Fëanáro. _Then_ I decided it was worth it (after all, elves hopefully don't hit girls).

I worked up my best this-is-a-library-and-I-am-in-charge glare, put on my voice that will make the loudest sugar-happy child freeze, and said very slowly, "I'll thank you gentlemen not to disturb the peace of my library. You are making _quite_ a great deal of noise. Also, you can leave my friend alone."

Fëanáro didn't really react except to stay down where he was; he seemed to be pretty out of breath, and I could tell he had a bruise forming on one cheek. His three attackers, however, met my eyes with dangerous stares, and I was starting to regret speaking until the largest of them responded.

"The lady is correct, _gentlemen_," he said in a voice absolutely dripping with disdain. "We have disturbed the peace of _her_ library and we cannot have that, can we?"

The two others smirked back at him, but they turned and sauntered down the hall anyway. At that point, Fëanáro managed to scramble back onto his feet (and believe me, it was hard to imagine him doing that gracelessly, but he seemed to manage). Taking my arm, he made to pull us both through the doors of the library.

"Let us go, Kat. I am fine and I am certain my brother will be leaving."

I turned to go with him for just a second (until my brain caught up with my ears), but then my eyes flew to the taller elf who had been attacking him. "You're his _brother_?"

"I am indeed, Lady Kat," the elf replied. "My name is Séregon. Perhaps Fëanáro has told you of our training sessions together."

"Yeah, I saw the leg that you practically ripped off! And then beating him up today? What's your problem, anyway?"

I probably should have gathered from the fact that Séregon had tried to cut off Fëanáro's leg that they weren't particularly close, but clearly in this case, my brain was lagging far behind my comprehension skills.

Séregon's eyes flashed angrily, but then his eyes widened almost comically in realization. "Oh, so he has not told you _why_ he deserves this treatment?"

I racked my poor beleaguered brain for anything Fëanáro could have done to warrant such hatred, and I came up with nothing. I mean, Fëanáro's a pretty decent guy except maybe with regards to women he's seducing, but I didn't feel like his brother would care about all that. I shook my head, and a slow predatory grin spread across Séregon's face.

"Lady Kat, your dear friend Fëanáro is nothing less than a traitor to the crown. My friends and I are simply ensuring that he is treated as befits his crimes."

"Crimes?" I spluttered. "What the _hell_ has he done that anyone would consider traitorous? I mean, he's best friends with the prince! Why would he betray the crown?"

Séregon chuckled in response to my obvious confusion. "You see, Lady Kat," he continued in the sugariest of tones, "Prince Legolas is also a traitor. I do not believe Fëanáro would betray his best friend, but together they have served the Dark Lord Sauron quite well."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Because your brother and the prince clearly are insanely evil. How could I forget?"

"I have not said they are entirely evil, milady. Merely unintelligent. They were charged with the very simple task of keeping a harmless prisoner from escaping, and the prisoner promptly escaped from their care because they decided to take him out of the palace. Most believe that it was simply an error in judgment, but I am not convinced it was not planned with Sauron's approval."

I was pretty shocked at this story-not that I really believed it. But when I couldn't come up with an adequate response within a few seconds, Séregon merely chuckled once more and left Fëanáro and I with a condescending bow.

I stood in silence at the door of the library for a few seconds before I managed to turn to face Fëanáro. I'm sure the look on my face was a nice mixture of confusion and curiosity, but I put aside any questions the moment I caught Fëanáro's eye. Normally it's pretty difficult to read any emotion (except maybe mirth) in the eyes of an elf, but I could clearly see the naked shame in his gaze.

"Oh, Fëanáro, you can't think I'd actually _believe_ him!"

The elf in question shook his head rather dejectedly and then led me into the library.

"He is not wrong that we made an error in judgment," he began, "but I can swear to you that neither Legolas nor I would willingly serve Sauron in any capacity. We were fools to take the creature Gollum out of the gates. It was surely mercy that forced Legolas' hand, for the creature cried most piteously in his prison cell. We did not think that allowing him a few moments of sun would be harmful. But then he climbed a tree and would not come down, and when we were attacked by orcs, we lost him in the forest."

It was clear that this was a pretty touchy subject with Fëanáro, and I couldn't help but wonder how many people shared Séregon's opinion (at least that they were dumb if not actually traitors). But seeing the look in his eyes and the way he slumped into the closest chair, I couldn't bring it up.

"Don't be silly!" I told him. "We all make errors in judgment! I mean, Thranduil obviously doesn't think you're a traitor since he's always nice to you and he let Legolas go off on some quest! So who cares what your brother thinks? He's a nasty piece of work anyway, and I'm sure he's just jealous that people actually _like_ you."

"You do not think that I am unintelligent?"

"No, of course not! You seem like a pretty smart elf to me! Besides, did I ever tell you about the time I knocked over a whole bookshelf full of books because I didn't want to get a ladder?"

Fëanáro snorted in amusement at that. "I do not believe that is quite the same error in judgment as losing a prisoner."

"Maybe it isn't, but my point is that we all make mistakes. So don't beat yourself up about it. I still think you're pretty much amazing."

"Thank you for that, Kat," Fëanáro replied. "Now I only have one question."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Why would I beat myself up?"

* * *

Even though I didn't want to push Fëanáro on the subject of Gollum, I didn't really feel comfortable with his brother calling him a traitor. I certainly knew he wasn't a traitor to the crown (and I was pretty sure the prince wasn't either), but I felt like Thranduil should know so he could be prepared to do damage control. It took a few days for me to override my I-don't-want-to-be-a-tattle-tale instinct, but I realized that running a country probably required different rules than being in elementary school, so I requested a meeting with Thranduil.

I must have sounded serious enough when I spoke with his secretary (after all, I still felt really strange just going and talking to a king. I mean, I didn't want to bother him or anything). Thranduil summoned me to his private study (a much cosier room than the one I had first met him in) that evening after dinner.

After we dispensed with all the usual pleasantries, I launched right in by saying, "So apparently Fëanáro's brother thinks that Fëanáro and Legolas are traitors to the crown."

Thranduil did not react at all like I thought he would. I had counted on some fairly justifiable anger followed by a plan to counteract Séregon's actions.

Instead he simply sighed and shook his head for a moment before replying. "Yes, Lady Kat. I am aware of his accusations and the accusations of others. I am afraid that there is not much I can do to help either of them."

This absolutely blew my mind. I mean, the guy was the _king_! Surely when you get to be king, you get some kind of superpower that lets you change your subjects' minds whenever you want. Maybe it's not the most realistic of ideas, but you've got to remember that I was coming from a democratic background, so I was always somewhat impressed with royalty.

"Surely you can just tell your people that the prince and Fëanáro aren't traitors! Won't they listen to you?"

Thranduil smiled a sad smile before responding. "When the creature Gollum was lost, I chastised the pair for their error in judgment. I realized that anyone, myself included, could have made the same error, and I made sure that my opinion was publicly known. Unfortunately, many of my people have always been quick to criticize their prince, and this did not endear Legolas to them. Fëanáro bears only a slight part of the burden, as he is Legolas' friend. But due to this incident and to Legolas leaving for Imladris and the quest, many of my subjects consider him to be ignoring or even tossing aside his duties as prince."

I hadn't really realized until this point that my contact with the elves of Mirkwood was fairly limited. I mean, I knew a few of them fairly well, but I didn't spend a lot of my time talking to elves that I hadn't met. Clearly I was only friends with the ones who truly respected Legolas, and I had completely missed any dissenting points of view, so I was a bit clueless.

"But I don't understand," I replied. "I thought you wanted Legolas to go to Imladris and then go on this quest. I mean, I don't even know what the quest is for, but I figured you wouldn't have sent him without a good reason and he wouldn't have just gone without your permission."

"I did need him to journey to the council in Imladris, if only to spread the news of Gollum's escape. I am quite sure most of my subjects agree that it was his duty. But as for the quest..." Thranduil trailed off and stared at me for a few moments, as if he was measuring me in some way.

"Do you understand, Lady Kat, that what I am about to tell you cannot be discussed with just anyone? I will permit you to speak of it with Fëanáro, as he is already aware of the circumstances of the quest my son participates in, but you must not speak of it with anyone else."

I agreed to this, of course, and Thranduil continued with his tale.

"Many thousands of years ago, a legion of men and elves defeated the Dark Lord Sauron. They did not destroy his ring, however, and it was lost to all for many years. The creature Gollum evidently discovered it, but he kept it hidden for quite some time until a hobbit of the Shire won it from him. The hobbit returned to the Shire with the ring, and all was quiet for a time. Sauron began to rise again, because without the destruction of the ring, he was never truly defeated. The wizard Mithrandir discovered that the one ring of Sauron's creation rested in the Shire, and he sought to bring it to Imladris. Legolas and Fëanáro were tasked with keeping Gollum prisoner, so he could not share the whereabouts of the ring with Sauron. When he was captured by orcs in our forest, we knew that someone must report our misfortune to the council and to Master Elrond in Imladris. The council decided that the ring would be taken to Mordor to be destroyed by a young hobbit named Frodo Baggins, and my son has gone along as part of the fellowship to destroy the ring."

To put it lightly, I was stunned into silence by this tale. While I knew that Mirkwood and Middle Earth could be dangerous places (don't forget that I was already acquainted with the giant spiders), I never could have predicted that I was in the middle of some epic story involving dark lords and quests. I didn't really understand everything Thranduil was telling me (where was Mordor and why did it sound so foreboding?), but I could catch his drift that Legolas was off basically helping to save the world. So why did people consider this a dereliction of duty?

Once I finally recovered my powers of speech, I said, "But that sounds pretty much like he's doing his duty! I mean, obviously if Sauron takes over, everyone will have bigger problems than him missing council meetings and stuff like that."

Thranduil nodded pensively. "That is indeed true, and there are many of my people who are willing to look beyond Mirkwood and see that Legolas is doing what is best for everyone. But you must understand, most of my people do not know exactly why he is on this quest. For them, he should have returned home immediately after the council meeting in Imladris. When he did not, they believed he was only ignoring his duties as they have seen him do so many other times. Legolas has never inspired blind devotion from our people, as he has never been entirely enthusiastic about taking the throne one day. For a time, I simply worsened the situation by allowing him to miss council meetings for guard duty and training, and now many of my people believe he never intends to become involved in ruling. And I am a little afraid that they are correct, but I do not see him as being quite as delinquent as they do."

"What do you mean, that they're correct? You don't think Legolas wants to be king?"

"I know he does not," Thranduil responded. "He has told me such on several occasions. I believe if it were forced upon him, he would respond admirably, for he is a capable and intelligent elf. But I would not force it upon him unless I had no other choice. And now I fear he has taken the decision completely out of my hands. I received word just yesterday that he has joined with a great host of men in attacking the very gates of Mordor. The army has not been sent to succeed, but rather to lend Frodo a distraction as he attempts to destroy the ring, and I worry that I will never see my son again."

"But he-" I could barely get the words out. "Do you mean that he's going to war to _die_?"

Even though I had only been in Mirkwood for less than a year, I knew how elves felt about death. It was obvious from Dínendal's disdain for mortals and from the stigma that Fëanáro experienced when he was hobbling about on crutches that elves did not deal well with death. They were never meant to die, and even in Mirkwood, where battles happened relatively often, elves were almost never killed. I knew that if Legolas was heading into certain death, he had basically abandoned any hope of returning to Mirkwood. I could see how people might take that to be ignoring his duty as their prince, but I couldn't see how they could ever consider him a traitor. I thought it was rather selfless.

Thranduil didn't really respond to my question, but I didn't expect him to. We both sat quietly, lost in our own thoughts for a few minutes. Finally he spoke again, and I could hear the concern evident in his voice.

"Even if he survives, how can I expect my son to return here to his life as it was before? I cannot see him being unchanged. As his king, I should demand it of him, but as his father, I will not. So you see, that is why people believe he is abandoning his duty, or even a traitor to them, even though they do not know the reasons for the quest. Joining the quest so wholeheartedly was enough to prove to them that he will never become king."

I nodded, because it was indeed obvious that Legolas never would be king. But all I could think was that I sincerely hoped that this elf, an elf who I had never met, would return to Mirkwood someday and be okay.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Review if you wish!


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